


Primal Scream

by Trawler



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, druid, rogue - Freeform, stealth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trawler/pseuds/Trawler
Summary: Keyleth creeps away from camp for a moment of privacy, but Vax can't let her go alone.
Relationships: Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Primal Scream

I’d been lurking behind an old oak tree for the last fifteen minutes, using the dappled light of dawn to conceal myself in the shifting shadows. Keyleth, poised on the brow of a hill, was staring out over the verdant valley below. While I watched her, she watched the landscape, oblivious to my presence. Her eyes were on the wilderness but her attention had clearly turned inward.

Her early morning exit from camp had woken me, despite what I knew to be her best efforts at stealth. The swish of heavy fabric, the tread of feet through the dew-damp grass, even her breathing – to a man used to listening for the sounds of concealment, her travel had roused me from a light, fitful slumber. My heritage ensured I required little sleep. My conscience ensured that what I managed was patchy at best.

Since our first meeting in the bogs of Stilben, when I’d been startled by the sight of a waving squirrel, I’d taken every opportunity to study her. Keyleth’s face was fixed in my memory. The way she moved, the way she held herself, were imprinted in my mind’s eye, so that I only had to close my lids and I’d recall her with perfect clarity. Which was why now – as I watched her at the top of the hill – I knew something was wrong. 

Her fingers closed convulsively in the folds of her gown, tendons standing in clear contrast to her pale skin. Her red hair glowed like embers, loose and tumbling like a lava flow over narrow shoulders. The strands twitched and moved as she unconsciously generated her own gust of wind. Lips parted, she was breathing too fast. Physically – mentally – she was close to the edge.

She closed her eyes, forehead creasing. Her fingers clenched and relaxed. 

She threw her head back, hair flicking over the points of her ears, and screamed.

It took every ounce of will I possessed not to go to her. 

Her scream startled a flock of ravens from their roosts. They took to the sky, glossy black feathers reflecting shards of purple and green and blue. Had anyone back at camp heard? No. With the exception of my sister, none of our group had particularly keen senses. 

Her outburst seemed to have released whatever pent-up tension had been clawing at her mind. Her features smoothed, the frown vanishing. Her frame relaxed. Her fingers loosened. 

I should leave. I shouldn’t have followed, but I’d wanted to be sure she was safe. Keyleth was a Princess of the Ashari, a powerful druid... but I _always_ wanted to be sure she was safe. Safety was an illusion, but if I was with her? I could maintain that illusion. 

I turned, meaning to vanish into the deeper shelter of the trees, but my suddenly – and annoyingly – careless foot crunched on a twig. I froze, wincing at the sharp snap, praying Keyleth wouldn’t notice.

But she was already looking in my direction, features tightening once again with wariness. She raised her hands in a spellcaster’s stance. 

“It’s me,” I called in a low voice, moving forward enough to be seen. “Sorry I startled you.”

“Vax! Oh, uh... it’s OK, you didn’t startle me.” The wariness slowly melted away, replaced by the familiar awkward uncertainty I’d come to adore. Not because I enjoyed her awkwardness – far from it – but because it was something she struggled against every day. Something she fought to overcome. In so very many ways, she was the bravest woman I knew.

“Come back to camp?” I asked, for something to say. “Or do you need more time alone?”

“You heard me scream.” A statement, not a question. She tucked her hair behind her ears and didn’t meet my eyes. She looked everywhere – the ground, her feet, a nearby boulder – but not at my face. That hurt. But I understood. 

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s not like I don’t want the others to know, but...”

“That’s why you came all the way out here for a little privacy,” I said, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed.”

“I don’t mind,” she rushed to say. “Honestly, I don’t. It’s just, I’ve got all these pressures, all these things piling on top of me, and sometimes it gets... I don’t know, it’s too much.”

“That, I understand. My father...” I shook my head. “My sister and I were expected to behave a certain way. _Conform._ ” I spat the hated word. “The weight of expectation is a terrible burden.”

Her widening eyes filled with warmth. Her smile was tentative but, I thought, genuine. 

“I will do whatever I can to fulfil the expectations of my father and of my people,” she said. “But I’m also coming to understand that it’s not always possible to follow that path.”

“We have to follow our own path.” 

Finally she looked up. Finally she met my eyes. Held them. As she held my heart, whether she knew it or not.

“We’re bringing out all the clichés this morning, aren’t we?” Her smile now was wider.

I laughed. “Fuck it. Let’s go make breakfast.”


End file.
